


A Little Peace of Mind

by elliebird



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Blow Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-07 22:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21225353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebird/pseuds/elliebird
Summary: I just wanted to write some sleepy kissing. This was not supposed to happen.





	A Little Peace of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you to Crimson and Pocket. I adore you both.

It’s the other side of midnight when Pete and his entourage arrive at the hotel. He’s got a room key in his pocket and no idea what floor he’s supposed to be on. He’s the kind of tired that’s more delirium at this point. Immediately a wave of guilt hits him. 

“Tenth floor,” Lis tells him as he stares blankly at the bank of numbers. Someone - Nina or Saralena - takes pity on him and thumbs the number. Pete rests his weight against the wall and drifts, working at the buttons on one cuff. His bones are heavy with fatigue and he’d like to sleep for a week. But he has plans, or hopes, that involve a little personal time with his love. 

The elevator deposits them all on a floor that looks like all the floors of all the hotels he’s stayed at in the last year. 

“Great work tonight,” Lis says. It’s nearly one am, in a dimly lit hotel and she’s got her shades pulled down over her eyes. “Go see that husband of yours.” She gives him a one-armed hug and pushes him playfully towards his room. 

Chasten’s flight arrived as they were sitting down for dinner and Pete’s been thinking about how long it’s been since they were in the same place for more than a night. He can’t remember the last time they were intimate beyond a very rushed mutual handjob in the shower a week ago. 

He’s seen so little of Chasten these days. The moments they do have together are all the more poignant and sweet, but he feels the weight of what he’s asking of Chasten every second of every day that he’s running.

The suite is dark when Pete lets himself in. Chasten’s left his shoes by the sofa and there’s a faint light coming from the bedroom. 

He shrugs out of his coat and takes off his tie. The reading light above Chasten’s side of the bed casts a faint glow, illuminating him asleep, slumped against the headboard. The sight of him - glasses still on and his iPad forgotten on his chest - eases the tension in his shoulders. He has seven hours until he’s expected in the lobby and more than sleep, he wants to spend a little time loving on his husband. 

The proof of how loved he is overwhelms him. There are days when he worries he’s not living up to the vows he made in his church, promising in front of God and all their loved ones that he’d cherish Chasten. Coming back to yet another generic, sterile hotel room to find that his husband stubbornly tried to wait up for him, despite his own exhaustion, dismantles Pete. 

Pete toes out of his shoes and undresses down to his undershirt and slacks. Chasten doesn’t stir until Pete leans over him to extract the iPad and carefully remove his glasses, setting both on the bedside table. 

He’s been in love with Chasten for four years, a kind of love that makes him question what his life was _before_. He’s still falling, a little more with every moment of their lives they share together. Chasten takes such care of him, from reminding him to drink water when he’s three days into a road trip and running on fumes and coffee or flying across the country for twenty-four hours because Pete’s voice broke when he said, “I miss you” on their last phone call. 

Pete goes still when Chasten blinks sleepily up at him. It never gets old, the flip flop in his chest when Chasten looks at him like this, open and tender and vulnerable. 

“Hi,” Chasten mumbles. He’s beautifully disheveled and adorably disoriented for a moment before he sits up and reaches for Pete, a hand on his hip and his head tilted in invitation of a kiss. 

“Hi, love,” Pete says, slipping a hand to the nape of his neck. He kisses Chasten’s parted lips and swallows his low hum of pleasure.

Chasten - never one to be embarrassed about anything - went pink the first time Pete called him _love_, a few months into dating when they were already talking about merging their lives and moving in together. He still responds to it in different, subtle ways that Pete tucks away to remember later when it’s been days since they’ve seen each other. 

Pete sets a knee on the bed and Chasten pushes into the kiss, taking it deeper like he’s been waiting.

Pete hadn’t been prepared for Chasten. He’d wanted love. To know it, experience it, breathe it. He hadn’t counted on the way it consumed him, like a tinder that sparked and ignited from some dormant part of him. He’s reminded of it constantly in the small moments like this when Chasten’s soft and warm against him, flushed from sleep and pleasure, hands roaming restlessly over Pete with an urgency that still takes him by surprise. 

Chasten pulls Pete with a hand on his wrist, tugs him down to the mattress so Pete covers him with his weight, the two of them tucked together from thighs to hips to bellies. Chasten’s breath stutters. 

This is what he’s missed. Overwhelmed, he whispers “I love you,” into Chasten’s open mouth. 

Chasten stills him with a hand on the back of his neck and breaks the kiss to tell him, in case Pete’s forgotten. “Love you,” he says, brushing his lips against Pete’s. “Love you,” he says with his lips pressed to Pete’s stubble. “_Love you_,” he says, lifting his head off the pillow to take Pete’s mouth. 

It still surprises him the way everything quiets when Chasten looks at him, cups his cheek in one hand, kisses him with a tenderness that shifts seamlessly into a focused hunger that always unmoors him. 

Chasten pulls him back in, encourages Pete to kiss him deeper as he slips his palms beneath Pete’s t-shirt, dragging them up to caress the sensitive place above his ribcage. He trembles, shivers as Chasten traces his fingers over places he’s memorized for the way Pete always responds.

Pete makes a hungry sound and Chasten opens his mouth for him, licking at the tender inside of his bottom lip because it turns Pete on and Chasten knows _all_ of Pete’s secrets. Pete settles in the space between Chasten’s thighs, huffing in surprised pleasure when Chasten tilts his hips up and slides both arms around his middle to urge him closer. 

Pete’s in his late thirties. In a couple of years he’ll turn forty. He has a mortgage, a couple of dogs and millions of people banking on him. He hopes he never gets used to the thrill of making out with his husband, with nothing but cotton between them, legs tangled and clinging to each other. 

Pete shifts his weight to give Chasten a chance to catch his breath but doesn’t get far when Chasten hooks his ankle over the back of his knee. 

“Babe,” Chasten says between one kiss and the next. He eases off to catch his breath and Pete ducks down, face pressed to the overheated curve of Chasten’s throat. He trails a row of kisses along the damp skin where Chasten smells like soap and sweat and makes the sexiest little sounds when Pete darts his tongue out to taste him.

He _loves this_. Chasten sleep-warm and vulnerable beneath him, feeling the way his body responds to Pete’s mouth on him, restless hands clutching at him. Pete slips his fingertips beneath the hem of Chasten-s threadbare t-shirt and drags it up his middle, letting it bunch beneath his arms. He traces the pads of his fingers over the soft skin high up where the right touch makes Chasten’s hips jerk and his pulse race. The sounds he makes vibrate through him where Pete’s lips hover at his throat. He mouths a kiss there, his own heart hammering. 

Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or the time he and Chasten have spent apart, but Pete’s emotions are high. His throat’s tight. He lifts his head and finds Chasten’s mouth as he slips one hand beneath him at the small of his back to bring him close. 

“Hey,” Chasten says softly, gripping the back of Pete’s neck. He’s quiet for a moment and Pete can feel him searching, reaffirming. “I know,” he says in response to all the things Pete would like to say but won’t. This isn’t the time. 

They make out a little longer with Chasten’s thighs framing Pete’s hips and a palm low on his back, ensuring there’s no space between them. Pete slows the kiss to a stop to drag his mouth down Chasten’s throat, his flushed skin, brushing his lips over his collarbone. 

He moves lower. 

The softness around Chasten’s belly that Pete’s always found so sexy is gone. Life as a campaign spouse has put a few new lines around Chasten’s eyes and taken fifteen pounds off his frame. Pete tamps down on the guilt that threatens to flare. He kisses the space between Chasten’s nipples, the mole above his hip, the dip beneath his belly button. He keeps his hands on hm, one flat on his belly to feel the breaths he takes and grips his thigh with the other to make room for himself as he moves down the bed. 

Chasten’s gone still beneath him. When he glances up, he’s watching him breathlessly, a pretty flush on his cheeks. Pete presses his mouth to the shape of Chasten’s cock, skin hot through the material of his boxers. 

There’s regret that they don’t have hours for this. He likes making Chasten wait for it for how demanding he gets with his hand pushing Pete’s head down until Pete’s eyes water and his lips and chin are messy. There’s no time. In less than six hours his alarm will go off and they’ll be heading out, racing towards the next thing. He kisses Chasten’s belly where he’s sensitive, traces his lips down to the cotton waist of his underwear and tugs them down his thighs. 

Pete’s been with a few men, all before Chasten. His experience is limited but he’s done his best to make up for lost time in learning all the ways to make Chasten come, what turns him on and what gets him off the hardest. 

The biggest surprise, maybe for both of them, was how eager Pete was from the start to give up control. Even in this, on his belly between Chasten’s spread thighs, he wants to let go and give Chasten the reigns. He kisses the inside of Chasten’s thigh. When Chasten doesn’t move, he does it again with his lips parted. Chasten gives him almost what he wants when he reaches out and touches Pete’s forehead to push his hair back. 

He lifts his head to fit his lips around the wet tip of Chasten’s cock, the flesh hard and the skin hot on his tongue, and shudders as Chasten rewards him with a hand at the crown of his head. 

Sex has always been good between them but these days, more connected than they’ve ever been, it’s electric. Chasten knows how much he loves his hand in his hair and the pressure of his fingers urging him down until he sputters. When he’s desperate and getting off on having Chasten in his mouth, Chasten knows to touch him where his lips stretch around him. Pete likes to wait until Chasten’s breath catches and he comes, the flood of it on his tongue always kicking him right over the edge. 

Pete was no good the first time. Too much teeth, not enough experience. What had surprised him was the desperate hunger of it, the thrill and arousal in his blood at being between Chasten’s thighs with his mouth full. The sloppier he was, gasping for breath as Chasten struggled to keep from fucking his face, the harder he got until the first taste of Chasten’s come on his tongue had him shooting all over his own hand. 

“That was unexpected,” Chasten had said on a breathless laugh afterwards, kissing the taste of himself from Pete’s tender mouth. 

“Peter,” Chasten breathes and pushes, encouraging Pete to open his mouth wider, take him deeper until his eyes are wet, his pulse throbbing in his ears and his cock desperate. 

Chasten eases up and Pete scrambles to get his knees out from under him. He hisses, heat flaring up his spine at the friction on his cock. It won’t take much beyond the weight of Chasten on his tongue, stretching his mouth, the ache in his jaw, for him to get off with his cock trapped against his belly. 

This time when Pete takes him deep, Chasten doesn’t let up. He holds himself still, resisting Pete’s hunger and his urge to fuck Pete’s face until Pete’s desperate for it. It’s less than a count of five before he lets go but Pete drags his mouth off him and sucks air into his lungs. He presses his face to Chasten’s thigh, kisses him in gratitude and stubbornly resists pushing his hand down his underwear. 

“Hang on a little longer, babe,” Chasten says breathlessly, pulling Pete off his cock. Pete’s hips jerk into the bed and he bites back a moan when Chasten smears his thumb across his sore bottom lip. Chasten takes such good care of him. He coughs. His cheeks are wet and his chin and mouth a mess of spit and pre-come. He’s so hard he feels it in his fingers and the balls of his feet. 

Chasten touches him with one hand on his jaw, giving him a second to catch his breath. Pete turns his cheek and kisses Chasten’s palm. After a second, when’s not breathing quite so hard, he takes Chasten back into his mouth until he thinks he might choke. Chasten keeps his hand on Pete, nothing forceful in his touch but a firm pressure that lights Pete up from the inside. 

“Keep going,” Chasten mutters. Chasten’s belly goes tight beneath Pete’s palm, muscles bunching. Pete swallows around him, so close to coming himself from having Chasten in his mouth, his attention and focus and adoration. 

Chasten hisses a curse. His grip tightens and his hips stutter and that’s all the warning Pete gets before Chasten comes down his throat. The first taste of it on his tongue makes him gasp, clutching at Chasten’s thigh and fucking his hips into the bed. He shudders. There’s nothing as sexy as Chasten like this, pliant beneath him, turned on and breathless. 

Pete keeps him in his mouth until Chasten gently eases him off. Pete kisses his thigh, his belly, the tip of his softening cock and presses his smile to Chasten’s skin when he shivers. 

“Come here.” Chasten tugs him up the bed and pushes Pete to his back. He kisses him with a hot, searching mouth, knowing exactly how close Pete is and how hot it makes him when Chasten kisses the taste of himself from Pete’s mouth. 

Chasten pushes his hand into Pete’s underwear. Sex with someone who knows him so well still takes Pete by surprise. Chasten knows how to touch him when he’s this close, the way to kiss him, the words to say with his lips pressed to the shell of his ear. 

Chasten’s fingers curl around his cock, firm and just the right side of too much. He smears his thumb across the tip and gets his palm slick with it, easing the friction and making Pete bite down on the embarrassing sounds that threaten to come out. He pulls Chasten close with an arm around his neck and kisses him harder, pushing his hips up into Chasten’s grip until Chasten catches his teeth in Pete’s bottom lip. 

“Stay still,” he says into Pete’s mouth. Pete shudders and comes all over Chasten’s hand. 

He can feel the shape of Chasten’s smug smile against his lips, the little huff of laughter. He clutches at Chasten, his thighs trembling. Chasten kisses his gasping mouth and smiles. “You like that,” he teases. 

Pete doesn’t think that warrants a response so he says nothing. He tugs at Chasten’s wrist until he takes the hint and covers Pete with his weight. He needs to get cleaned up. He needs to brush his teeth, make sure his alarms are set and everything’s in order for the morning. 

Instead, he slides his arms around Chasten’s waist and doesn’t let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I'm on [Tumblr](http://elliebirdthings.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/elliebirdthings).


End file.
